Perhaps it’s the morning dew or the budding gardens, but I’ve been thinking of you a lot recently.
It’s finally spring time, your favorite season, and yet my heart is unable to come back to life. In fact, seeing the trees and flowers return from their slumber only makes mine seem everlasting. I forget what it’s like to have clear sight without the blurriness of tears or exhaustion. Even when the world returns to its soft lavender and brilliant sapphire, ruby and emerald, I am always draped in a blanket of monotone dust. Color, like you, has left me too.
It’s cruel, I think, for the outside to be so beautiful when each day, I am slowly forgetting you inside.
Will the sunshine be as warm as your embrace, when I inevitably lose my sight, my strength, and then the key to my library of memories? Will the world continue rejoicing, even when I am locked away in my own oppressive prison? Why does time continue surging forward despite my strongest efforts to pull back?
What a cruel thing spring is to show me such beauty when I feel so pained.
Thank you for reading this short story by Angel Liang, our staff writer! Stay tuned for more works by Angel and our other writers in the future and read more about her here.